And So They Danced
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Hermione helps her boss at a Ministry of Magic benefit. He repays her in kind, soon leading to an unnamed relationship between the two. However, there are rumours of Voldemort's return. What will this mean for Hermione and Yaxley? AU from GoF onwards.
1. The First Dance

"The First Dance"

It started at a Ministry of Magic benefit. They had worked together – well, in the same division – ever since Hermione started at the MoM three years before. But, because she was Muggleborn and because he was in a more senior position, they had very little interaction. She would say this for him – he had been very professional when he conducted her job interview, and accepted her… despite his Pureblood prejudices.

So, although they rarely spoke since then, Hermione felt compelled to rescue him.

"Mr. Yaxley," she said, putting her hand on his, "you may not want to do that. In fact, you _definitely_ don't want to do that."

"Why, Miss Granger?" he asked, lowering the ladle. "Has it been spiked already?"

"I had some of the punch when I arrived, and it was fine then. When I came back for some more, however, it smelled… different. And look who's here tonight."

She tilted her head, and he saw the Weasley twins.

"People like that shouldn't be allowed to functions such as these," he said, putting the glass back down.

"Blood traitors?" she asked, an edge in her voice. He arched an eyebrow.

"No," he said. "People who have no sense of decorum or propriety. In short," he nodded at the punchbowl, "those who spike the drinks." She smiled and relaxed. "Thank you for your warning, Miss Granger."

"I don't know what's in it, but you can't afford to take any risks at the moment, can you?"

He glanced down and smiled. "You mean," he looked up, "because I am in the running for Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"Well, yes," she said. "You're the lowest level, uh, person in the running, aren't you?"

"I am."

"And I can relate."

"That's true," he said, leaning on the table with one hand. "It's rare for one so young to rise so high, and so quickly. I remember interviewing you for just an entry-level position, and look at you now. Not bad for a…" Then he stopped.

"A Muggleborn?"

"Actually, I was thinking 'for a woman'," he said, but she didn't know whether or not to believe him. "Most young ladies your age would usually be married by now, if not starting families. They seldom find time for such success."

"I really can't thank you for that," she said, smiling, and he chuckled. "I suppose that sexism is preferable to…"

"Will you dance with me, Miss Granger?" he asked. She froze, her lips still parted in mid-speech.

"Wha… Why?"

"You helped me," he said, stepping forward. "Allow me to make it up to you." He held out his hand as the current dance came to an end. Her eyes flicked down to his hand, then back to his face.

"And it won't hurt your chances if you're seen dancing with the best friend of the famous Harry Potter," she said. He went to speak, but she touched his palm. "As I said, I can empathise. Yes, I'll dance with you."

"You will?" He looked a bit surprised, but pleased, and led her onto the floor. They drew a few strange glances, but ignored them.

"I didn't think that I was going to enjoy tonight," she said as they danced. "This is the first time I've been issued an invitation to the benefit, of course, but the last time I danced was at Hogwarts."

"Until tonight."

"Until this moment."

He faltered in his movements, brief though it was.

"You haven't danced with anyone else yet?" he asked, frowning.

"No. Others asked, but I didn't know any of them, so… I said no."

He nodded slowly.

"Why don't some people want you to head the DMLE?" she asked. "You're the youngest candidate, and the youngest is often the best."

"The oldest reason in the book," he said. "Others want the job."

She laughed. "Ask a stupid question… What I meant was, are there, you know, _personal_ grounds?"

He hesitated before answering. "I wouldn't know. Maybe they are against me because I was in Slytherin?"

"O-oh." She lowered her gaze. "I see."

"Does that change anything, Miss Granger?"

"Well, not really," she said, her eyebrows drawing together. "It just makes me wonder how house prejudices can stretch that far. It's not the most sensible way of getting things done, is it? The job should always be given to the most qualified applicant, unless there are _extremely_ extenuating circumstances."

"Do you suppose me to be the most qualified?"

She chewed on her lower lip before she spoke.

"Yes, Mr. Yaxley. I do. The only thing separating you from them is that they've been around longer, which technically equates to experience. But the Ministry needs a good kick in the… I mean, it needs shaking up a bit," she corrected, blushing when he smirked. "Someone younger should be elected to do that, even if it's a big responsibility. Are you up for it, sir?" He saw the amusement in her eyes.

"I believe so, Miss Granger."

"Then I wish you luck, sir, and let me know if I can help."

"Loyalty is always rewarded," he said, vaguely noting the end of the song. They slowed to a halt and he backed off a step. "Tell me how I can repay you when the time comes."

"What? No," she said as he escorted her to the side. "That's not why I…"

"Keep telling yourself that, Miss Granger," he said, bending over her hand. "But we're all Slytherins at heart." She held her breath as his lips barely brushed the skin. "Thank you for the dance."

* * *

><p><strong>Squee! New story! Stick around, if you like.<strong>

**As you can see, Yaxley clearly has ulterior motives for dancing with Hermione; heck, for being pleasant to her. And she knows his motives, so she's hardly a helpless victim, and may even be a bit (unconsciously) calculating.**

**But there is much still to come. Things will change as well, in a good way (I hope).**


	2. A Victory Dance

"A Victory Dance"

Amelia Bones was now the Minister for Magic. That is why her old position as Head of the DMLE was open… or, to be more accurate, it was open until two weeks after the Ministry benefit.

Yaxley was usually unemotional, but he couldn't help feeling proud, and very satisfied, when he looked around his office. It was so different from the cubicle that he had occupied for the past six or seven years. A hell of a lot more peaceful, too.

He turned when he heard a knock at the door.

"Miss Granger," he said, tilting his head. "Come in."

"Congratulations," Hermione said, moving into the room. "I came as soon as I heard… well, as soon as I could get away _after_ I heard. It's been busy with the new administration, of course."

"Of course." He studied her until she looked away, feeling uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

"Anyway, that's it," she said. "Just ensure that any changes you make are good ones, okay?" He didn't reply, so she nodded, her joking smile disappearing. "Right." She began to leave.

"Miss Granger," he said. She turned around quickly, her hand on the doorframe.

"Yes, boss?" she asked. He half-smiled.

"There's now an opening for my old job as Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office." He crossed his arms as he leaned against the desk, still looking at her. "I've put your name forward for consideration." He shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, it's yours if you want it."

Her eyes widened. "W-what… I…" She shook her head. "You'd do that for _me_?"

"I told you. Loyalty is its own reward."

"But… we barely know each other," she said. "We've only danced. I mean, you don't owe me anything."

"Didn't you say something about the post being given to the most qualified candidate? I think that might be you."

"M-maybe, but it's a big step," she said, flustered.

"Think about it," he said. "You have a few days to make a decision, at least before the Acting Head gets too comfortable where he is."

She couldn't speak, at least not right away. But then – slowly – she smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said softly. "I'll… I'll send in my résumé."

"I look forward to reading it. Good day, Miss Granger."

"Good day, Mr. Yaxley, and thank you," she said, and she beamed at him.

Nothing could detract from Hermione's happiness as she all but skipped to the lifts. It was the end of the working day, it was Friday, and Flourish & Blotts was having a sale over the weekend. She was being recommended for a major promotion by someone she thought hated her for being Muggleborn. She had been _sure_ that he hated her.

Well, even if he disliked her, he seemed to respect her. After all… being the Head of something… the Improper Use of Magic Office, no less… It was so much to take in! She couldn't wait to tell her family and friends.

Now, don't get ahead of yourself, Hermione, she thought. You haven't got the job yet, even though he said that it's yours if you want it.

"You _idiot_," she whispered to herself. She could have just accepted it! He said that the position was hers for the taking. What was she thinking?

"Oi!" Ron said, throwing an arm around her shoulders and making her jump. Harry copied the action on the other side. "Who d'you think you're calling an idiot?"

"Hello, boys," she said, embracing her friends back. They all stepped into the empty lift when it opened. She leaned over to punch the button for the eighth floor, but the two Aurors got there first, jabbing it at the same time and then high-five-ing.

"So, who were you talking about?" Harry asked, leaning against the far wall while Ron lounged beside Hermione.

"Myself," she said, trying not to grin. "You won't believe what's happened to me."

The young men looked at each other, then back at their friend.

"After what we heard today, I'd believe anything," Harry said.

"Really?" They nodded. "Okay. I've been recommended for promotion…"

"Like that's never happened before," Ron said, sharing a look with Harry. "What's so special about this one?"

"It can't be Minister for Magic, since we've got a new one of those," Harry said.

"And it can't be Head of the DMLE, because Yaxley's got that," Ron said, wrinkling his nose. "I don't trust him."

"Neither do I. Moody was grumbling about him being a suspected Death Eater."

"Well, he was nice to me, and he wouldn't be if he was really a Death Eater," Hermione said as she crossed her arms, sick of their teasing.

"Dancing with you at the benefit doesn't count as being nice," Ron said. "I'd be on your guard if I were you, `Mione."

"One, don't call me that, Ronald. Two, he's the one who has put my name forward."

"He has to have an ulterior motive," Harry said. They came to an abrupt halt on the Atrium level and exited the lift. "So what's this promotion?"

"I'll tell you at the Burrow on Sunday, okay?" Hermione said, glancing around. She didn't want anyone eavesdropping, especially since the boys were bound to overreact when she told them.

* * *

><p>Sure enough, the reactions at lunch were explosive and varied. Disbelief, mistrust, and very few congratulations. It wasn't until Mrs. Weasley noticed that Hermione was trying not to cry that she put a stop to the conversation.<p>

"Well done, dear," she said, leaning across to offer her a roll. "We're all so proud of you. It's just so… unexpected…"

"I know," she said, scrunching her napkin in her lap. "Anyway, I may not get it. I sent in my application yesterday, but he'll probably get loads of them, and not just from our department, either. Loads of other people deserve it more than I do, I'm sure. He has to do what's best for the Ministry…"

"You're babbling, Hermione," Ginny said, patting her arm. "I think it's great. There haven't been many Muggleborn division Heads before, and especially young, _female_ ones."

"It's the 'young, female' part that worries me," Ron said. "Tell one of us if he makes any moves on you, all right?"

"She can keep an eye on him for us," Harry suggested, glancing at his friend. "Remember what we heard the other day?"

"What, you mean about You-Know-Who maybe coming back? I still think it's a load of rot," Ron said, waving his hand. "He's gone, remember?"

"Just because he stopped trying to come back doesn't mean that he won't succeed," Harry said. "Dumbledore believes it, after all, and if we can't trust him, who _can_ we trust?"

"We're not at Hogwarts anymore, mate…"

"Look!" Hermione shouted, and everyone immediately paid attention. She took a deep breath. "It's been twenty years since You-Know-Who – all right, Harry; _Voldemort_ – disappeared, and most likely died. In that twenty years we've only had to deal with him twice, and then Pettigrew escaped. That's all. Nothing else, except for that stupid prophecy about the servant and his master. And what does this have to do with my promotion?"

Trying to defuse the tension, the twins piped up.

"Saw you dancing with him…" Fred began.

"At the benefit," George said.

"Looked very cosy."

"Maybe he fancies you?"

"I merely stopped him drinking the punch that you tampered with," she said, raising an eyebrow. Mrs. Weasley immediately hit them with a wooden spoon, prompting yelps.

"You did _what_?" she asked.

"Well, most of the people there were stuffed shirts," George said.

"Yeah. We just wanted to liven up the festivities," Fred added.

"Can you blame us, Mum?"

"It was fun."

"For us."

"We got lots of blackmail material."

"Which we'd _never_ use, of course," they said quickly when they saw her eyes narrowing.

"Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, standing up. "I didn't have time to go to Diagon Alley yesterday, and there's a book sale…"

"Of course, dear," she said, waving her away absent-mindedly. "Have fun."

* * *

><p>Hermione was never to make it to Flourish and Blotts. She had barely walked in the door of her flat when an owl brought her a message. It was from the Ministry of Magic. She fed the barn owl a treat and it left with a loud hoot.<p>

Her hands shook as she opened the envelope, trying not to rip anything. Before she could read the message, she locked her door and staggered into the kitchen to sit down.

"Please," she murmured, pulling out the letter. "Oh please."

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_We are delighted to inform you that your application for the position of Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office has been approved. Your presence at the Ministry of Magic is necessary to move your things this evening so that you can commence tomorrow. Should you require assistance, do not hesitate…_

She was breathing slowly and steadily by the time she finished reading the letter. She was through. She had been accepted.

"Woo hoo!" she shouted, and she leapt up. From now on, she would have to conduct herself properly in public, at least more so than usual, but for the time being… she allowed herself a little victory dance.

* * *

><p><strong>To my American readers in the path of Hurricane Irene: ARE YOU OKAY? Please let me know if you can.<strong>

**Back to the author note…**

**The chapters will obviously vary in length. I don't know whether it's clear yet, but the theme running through the story will be dancing. Not just literal dancing, either, to be exceedingly clever. (And modest, apparently.) Also, Voldemort didn't come back in their fourth year. Basically, it's AU from book four onwards.**


	3. A Private Dance

"A Private Dance"

A few weeks later Sirius held a party at Grimmauld Place to celebrate Hermione's appointment to the head of her division. It was for family and friends only, as he still hadn't been cleared; besides, they didn't want any of her jealous colleagues to try and undermine her. Even Fred and George behaved themselves, despite the lack of press. She was getting enough of that kind of attention the rest of the time, even when she was only shopping in Diagon Alley. She had been assured that it would calm down.

"I still wish that you could have invited more of my co-workers," Hermione said, leaning against the host.

"Why?"

"They might feel that I'm excluding them or something…" she mumbled. Sirius shook his head and poured her a drink.

"You just have to prove that you belong there," he said. "Don't let them try anything. And _especially_ don't let Yaxley try anything."

"Everyone keeps thinking that he's after me for some reason," she said. "I just don't understand it. If he was out to get me, then he wouldn't have given me that promotion…"

"Unless he's setting you up for failure."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sirius," she said dryly. "I'd already thought of that on my own. And he can't be after me… romantically, because you all keep reminding me that he hates Muggleborns, even Half-Bloods."

"He's still a man," Sirius said, raising his glass, "and we're all the same on the inside, kitten."

She glared at him. "Aside from that, who'd want me?"

He leaned in close. "You'd be surprised." Then he winked and walked away, leaving her gaping after him.

"Remus," she said, tugging on his arm when he walked past. "Remus, what did he mean?"

"Ignore him, Hermione. Whatever he said, he's probably just saying it to annoy you. You know him."

"Yes." She turned to him. "You're not going to give me the big-brotherly talk, are you? I'm sick of hearing it."

"All right," he said, though she could tell that he was amused. "Enjoy the rest of the party."

"Actually, I'm going to go home soon," she said. "It's Monday tomorrow, and I want to get ready for the week ahead. I fear it will take a hell of a lot to get any respect. I almost wish that I hadn't…" She shook her head. "But it's done now."

"Maybe we're being unnecessarily cautious," Remus said. "You can take care of yourself; we all know that. But if you can't learn to enjoy your job, then what's the point of having it? So," he put down his glass, "find what you'll like most about it – even if it's just the money – and keep that in mind while you do all the hard… 'stuff'." She smiled. "If all else fails, think like a Slytherin."

"I'll try. Thank you, Remus. You've given the most helpful advice of all."

"Glad to help," he said. "Have a good night."

* * *

><p>By Friday afternoon Hermione was glad to leave. She had a terrible headache. People seemed to hate the fact that this female Muggleborn in her early twenties had snatched up such a (relatively) prestigious job. What was worse was that she had heard rumours that she and Yaxley were having an affair. This was incorrect on so many levels that she could hardly work out where to begin in disproving the theory.<p>

Knowing that she had to consult with him about this, she trotted along to his office after most of the staff had gone home, knowing that he was one of the last to leave. Sure enough, he was just pulling on his travelling robes when she knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" he called.

"Hermione Granger."

"Come in, Miss Granger."

He was tugging at the cuffs of the sleeves when she entered. Once they were straightened he turned his attention to her.

"Have you had any problems?" he asked.

"They'll settle down, I expect," she said, unsure whether she was referring to the problems or the people causing them. "I think I'm doing all right so far. Why?" She stepped forward. "Have you heard differently?"

"I've heard a great many things about you, Miss Granger," he said. She blushed and looked down. "I'm more inclined to believe the good than the bad."

"Thank you, sir," she said. "Have you heard… um… the rumours about…"

"About us? I have."

"…Yes."

"It's always the same when a young woman is promoted." He had locked up his office and they were now making their way to the lifts. "Especially if an older man is her greatest supporter."

"What I cannot work out is why you would fight so hard for me."

"It wasn't much of a fight, Miss Granger. Believe it or not, there were a number of people who agreed that you could do the job, and do it well."

"Are you sure they didn't just want to witness my failure?" she asked while they waited.

"What failure?"

"Whatever failure they expect."

Yaxley sighed. "If it's any help to you, the Minister was most enthusiastic about your appointment." Hermione's eyes lit up. "You have been promoted before, always on your own merits. Painful as it is to admit," he muttered.

"Why…" She was cut off by the lift arriving. He waved her in ahead of him, and they both reached for the button at the same time. He let her press it.

"Why what, Miss Granger?"

"You can call me Hermione, if you like."

"Not at work."

"Oh. Of course not, Mr. Yaxley." He remained silent, and she remembered her question. "Why would it be painful for you to admit that I deserve the job?"

"Because you're only three years out of Hogwarts," he said, "and you're already higher up than most people your age have ever been. Certainly of this generation. It was bound to happen sometime, though. You're an over-achiever by nature, aren't you?"

"And that is why I didn't have any friends until I was twelve and have always been single," she said, just as they came to a stop. "Academic pursuits come above everything else for me."

The Atrium was empty, and they sat on the rim of the fountain.

"I don't think that everything's been explained," she said, trailing her fingers in the water. "There must be so much more. I haven't had time to look at the library yet, to find out if there's anything else expected of me. There might be some Pureblood… rituals that I should adhere to, even though I'm a Muggleborn. Unspoken rules."

"There are more functions you will be required to attend," he said.

"Like the benefit?"

"That was open to whoever could afford it," he said. "And they won't always be that formal, but certainly exclusive."

"Do I have to have an escort?" she asked.

"That is one of those unspoken rules, Miss Granger."

"Oh gods," she moaned, resting her head in her hands. "What do I do? I don't even know _half_ the dances that I've seen people like the Malfoys do. They'll be waiting for me to trip up. _Everyone_ will be waiting to see me make a fool of myself." She stood up and scowled down at him. "That _was_ why you gave me the job, wasn't it, Mr. Yaxley? Nothing to do with loyalty or talent. Just to see a… a _Mudblood_ being humiliated."

"Miss Granger, you are out of line," he said, rising to stand before her, his hard features imposing and the danger radiating off him. She took a small step back. "_Never_ address me, or anyone else superior to you, in such a way. Think of me what you like, but I only ever have the good of wizarding Britain in mind when I make decisions, and if that means giving someone like you a position of great responsibility, then so be it." He raised an eyebrow as he stared down at her, noticing the way that she trembled and looked at him with her big, brown eyes full of alarm. His frown changed. "Why did you have your first dance with me at the benefit if your opinion of me is so low?"

"F-forgive me, Mr. Yaxley," she whispered, unable to move backwards for sheer terror. "I wanted to b-believe the best, but…"

"But you didn't, or your friends didn't," he said, nodding. "However, that still doesn't explain why you danced with me."

"You asked me to."

He chuckled and moved away, causing her to slump in relief. "I assumed that you had danced with someone else first, or at least knew the rules."

"More unspoken rules?"

"Miss Granger, when a woman does not dance with the first man to ask her, it is generally thought that she is saving her first dance for someone else. Unless that person is a family member, it means that she has selected…" He trailed off, trying to word it.

"Selected what?" she asked, getting paler.

"The person who has first courting rights," he said, glancing back at her. Her jaw dropped. "Fortunately, it is widely accepted that this does not apply to Muggleborns, as they have no idea what their actions mean. So you are relatively safe from scrutiny. I, on the other hand…"

"You didn't know that I hadn't already danced," she said, seeing his frustration.

"If I'd been watching you, I would have."

"There was no reason for you to watch me."

"Hmm." He turned and held out a hand. "You say you cannot dance. Come here." He pulled her into his arms and took her through a few steps, studying her style with an intensity that made her blush. Finally, they stopped. "You still dance like a Muggle, not a witch. You need proper tuition in the correct ways to place and move your hands, your feet, your body… everything."

"Are there any books on the subject?"

"Yes. And ask Molly and Arthur Weasley for help. They may not live like Purebloods should, but they have been taught proper ball etiquette."

"I will, sir."

"Good. Until Monday, Miss Granger."

"Good night, Mr. Yaxley."

* * *

><p><strong>Confused about his behaviour? Good gods, I thought this story would be easier to write, but I made the mistake of having detailed notes for the later parts of the story, and not for the beginning. And, well, the beginning is kind of important.<strong>

**(We learnt that at uni. Aren't I clever? Oh, take that look off your face, and do stop laughing…)**

**Please review! I get more reviews when I ask for them, don't you know? Indeed.**


	4. NotSoSecret Dancing

"Not-So-Secret Dancing"

The Mark had been getting darker for some time now.

Three months had passed since Minister Bones began her term in office, and things were slowly settling down in all the departments. Even the Improper Use of Magic Office seemed to be running smoothly, despite the initial – and existing – resistance to its new leader.

Yaxley massaged his lower left arm through the sleeve, wondering what the hell was going on. The Dark Lord couldn't be coming back. Yes, it was the talk of the Auror office, and Rufus Scrimgeour kept bringing it up every meeting – with especially pointed glances – but the whole thing was probably sparked off by that paranoid has-been Mad-Eye Moody. He didn't even work for the Ministry anymore! Or maybe Albus Dumbledore was behind it. Maybe they were trying to force him out of his new job.

"Good gods, now _I'm_ being paranoid," he muttered, trying to summon a chuckle. But the Mark still worried him. Was there anyone he could ask about it? Or was it too dangerous to bring that kind of attention to himself in the current climate?

He swore and stood up, deciding to take a walk around for awhile. He wasn't doing himself any good sitting behind his desk all day, thinking about work, about dancing, about Hermione Granger…

He had to stop that train of thought _right _in its tracks.

* * *

><p>By now Hermione had read every book on Pureblood etiquette and dancing that she could get her hands on, though nothing could compare to the individual instruction given to her by the Weasleys. Even Sirius helped out, and acted as her dance partner sometimes. He was happy that his upbringing could be useful for once, rather than shameful.<p>

Still, well as they danced together, he would never be able to escort her to a Ministry function while he remained a convict. Not that he would want to.

After a couple of months on the job she had found a small cluster of rooms that were usually used for studying or exams, and was told that they were empty most of the time. As a Head, however, she was able to use one if she wanted to, for whatever reason.

That was where Yaxley found her on his walk. She hadn't been at her cubicle, so he'd had to use a spell to find her.

She had progressed nicely, he noted, when he saw her dancing around the room, the furniture cleared to the side to give her enough space. The Weasleys must have remembered something from their childhoods. Either that, or she learned very well just from books.

Swirling around, Hermione kept picturing different people as her partners. She started with Mr. Weasley, since he was one of her instructors, and then to Sirius, her main learning partner. Then she would imagine Harry, Ron, one of Ron's brothers, Remus, Neville, Yaxley… and Yaxley more than anyone else. She couldn't help it. He'd been in her thoughts far too much lately.

And then, just like that, he seemed to invade them when she caught sight of him, or thought that she did. She spun to a stop, arms out to gain her balance, and nearly fainted when she realised that it _was_ him, and that he was watching her with his arms crossed an his brows raised.

"Oh, Circe," she said, and she gulped. She hurried to the door and wrenched it open.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," he said.

"Good morning, uh, sir." She had her hand on her chest as she tried to control her breathing. "I'm so sorry. I'll get back to work. It's just that when there's a lull, I like to practise, and there's more room here than there is at my flat, and…" She bit her lip, stopping before she could mention Sirius.

"And?"

"And I wouldn't want to disturb the Weasleys. Plus, this way I'm at work, so if anything happens I'm already here."

"And out of breath from physical exertion," he said. "Sit down, rest. You're not in trouble."

She smiled, her pulse already slowing down. "Thank you, Mr. Yaxley."

"You've come along well."

"I didn't realise that there were such subtle differences in the styles," she said, uncapping her bottle of water. "Especially the hand placements. You don't think to notice them… if you don't know they're there."

"Do you see their connection to magic now?" he asked as she had a swig. She swallowed.

"I do," she said, nodding. "They should teach magical ballroom dancing at Hogwarts."

"There are more important things to be learned," he said, "such as good time management." He indicated the clock, and her eyes nearly bugged out.

"Is that really the time?" she said, scrambling to her feet. "I must have been too distracted when I got here to remember to set an alarm…"

"Miss Granger, you have an extra half hour for lunch now. I wouldn't get too agitated about it."

"But I'm used to getting back to work as soon as possible," she said as he held the door open for her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, following her into the hallway. "Where do you have lunch?"

"Why… where everyone else does… so I can eat with Ron and Harry, if they're available…"

"Not today," he said. "I want to test you on what you've supposedly learned from all those library books. Put your things back, make yourself presentable, and meet me at my office. We'll floo to Flerd Alley."

"_Flerd Alley_?" she asked, eyes wide again. "But it's so exp…"

"Are you sure you've studied?"

"Y-yes…"

"Then stop worrying, and _don't_ talk about money."

"O-of course, sir."

"Don't take too long, Miss Granger."

* * *

><p><strong>A date! Well, sort of. I know that it's a date, YOU know that it's a date, but do THEY think it's a date? Do they hell. (And it's not as though he actually asked her, for that matter.)<strong>

**See you next chapter.**

**By the way, Flerd Alley is mentioned in a couple of my other stories, a place of my own invention. It plays host to at least one restaurant and theatre, so – for the purposes of this fic – it's a rather up-market place for people to go for meals, etc.**


	5. Different Kinds of Dances

"Different Kinds of Dances"

They left the Sphere Theatre just after the performance of _Die Fledermaus_ finished at ten minutes past ten. It was late November now, and the occasional lunch with Yaxley had turned into dinner every so often, and for the first time dinner and a show. In this case, an operetta.

"Someone really ought to write a book straightening out the history of all these famous people, and say which ones were magical and which weren't," Hermione said, adjusting the collar of her woollen jacket. "I don't know why I thought that Strauss was a Muggle."

"He was as good as a Muggle," Yaxley said, letting her hold his arm.

"At least they allow his music to be performed here, even if he was a Squib."

"Strauss the Second's father came from a Pureblood family. _That_ is why his music is allowed to be performed."

"That's sad," she said. She heard him gasp and halted. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, shaking his left arm. "Just… a cramp." He then began to lead her along again, though she kept shooting him concerned looks.

As they walked, she began to hum the waltz. It influenced her steps so much that he had to pull her closer, shaking her back into her senses. She blinked rapidly, staring up at him, and then flushed.

"I forgot where we were," she murmured. "It's just that… the _music_… and I've been rehearsing so much."

"We may both be secure in our jobs by now, but it wouldn't take much to derail either one of us. Just remember what you have learned. You will no doubt receive an invitation to the Ministry Christmas Ball this year, so you must bear these things in mind."

"Yes, sir," she said. They began to stroll again. "You know, it was strange. There are waltzes, Viennese waltzes, foxtrots and the like, as well as some magical dances that I'd never heard of… but no tangos, or sambas, or any of those other, more passionate dances. Why is that?"

"Because 'passionate dances' are neither acceptable nor appropriate for a Pureblood gala," he said. "That kind of display is improper in public."

"And in private?" she said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. His countenance, however, remained impassive.

"Who dances in private?" he asked.

"_I_ do. Or do Muggleborns not count?"

"Sometimes I wonder whose prejudices are greater," he said, frowning slightly as he looked down at her. They were nearing the Apparation point. "Surely you cannot have an inferiority complex? Or are you just paranoid?"

"We had Alastor Moody for our Defence professor in fourth year. Having 'constant vigilance' shouted at you on a semi-regular basis is enough to do that to a person. But the Slytherins I've encountered have never given me reason not to assume that they're out to get me, and people like me." She paused. "Ex… except you, Mr. Yaxley."

"Call me 'Andrew', at least outside of work."

She beamed up at him. "Will you start calling me 'Hermione', then?"

"Very well."

"So, _Andrew_, have you never even tried to tango?"

"Of course not. Have you?"

"I thought we had established by now that dancing is _not_ my strong point," she said, with a wry smile.

"I don't know about that," he said, turning to her when they reached the end of the Alley. "You _have_ improved. I might even ask if I can escort you to the ball."

She gaped. "You… are you asking me to the Christmas ball?"

"I said that I _might_ ask you, Hermione. Not that I necessarily would."

"…Oh." Her shoulders dropped a little. He chuckled.

"Think about your answer," he said. "Just in case." He almost reached for her hand, then thought better of it. "Good night, Hermione." Then he drew his wand and Apparated away. She let out the breath she had been holding.

"Good night, Andrew," she said.

* * *

><p><strong>My theatre! The Sphere Theatre, as mentioned in "G&amp;S" and "The Wait", is clearly a homage to the Globe Theatre. Should it really be in Theatric Alley? I wonder…<strong>

**Okay, so I decided not to ask for suggestions for his name, considering that I was inundated last time. So! I looked at all the suggestions given to me for "Captive at Number 12", searched Behind the Name, and eventually came up with Andrew. (Thank you, Onyx-Jade!) Partly because I wanted something different, and partly because in my family tree there are a lot of Andrews, and they're mostly married to women named Grace. It was fate.**

**A note about "Die Fledermaus": when my father was performing the role of Alfred (the tenor) in London, 1982, Frankie Howerd – who was playing the jailer – came onstage and announced my sister's birth to the whole audience. True story.**


	6. Before the Dance

"Before the Dance"

_Miss Granger,_

_I would like you to accompany me to the Christmas Ball._

_A. Yaxley._

Hermione couldn't help chuckling when she read the memo from the Head of the DMLE. It was chauvinistic of him simply to state and not to ask (as always), but it seemed to be typical of his upbringing.

"Laughing at me, Miss Granger?"

She gasped and looked up. Yaxley was leaning on the edge of her cubicle, watching her with his penetrating stare. She blushed.

"Uh, no," she said. "Um…"

"Would you like to discuss this over lunch?" he murmured, loudly enough for her to hear, but not for anyone else. "Our usual place in Flerd Alley?"

"Oh," she said, eyes wide. "That isn't necessary. I mean," she looked down at her desk, "we can still go out if you like, but… I've been thinking. Like you told me to. And," her gaze slid back up to his, "yes. I'll go with you. I'm… I'm not sure why you'd want to take me, but since you asked, and since you've helped me, then yes. I accept your invitation."

"We will still have lunch, won't we?"

"Well, we certainly need to eat sometime," she said, standing and grabbing her handbag. She hesitated, and then picked up the memo and gave it to him. "Next time you intend to ask in person, perhaps you shouldn't waste Ministry resources? Then maybe you wouldn't give me a fright when you appear out of nowhere," she added in a mutter.

"Would you rather I go around shouting 'constant vigilance'?"

"Please don't."

* * *

><p>He was a fool. Absolutely convinced of it. The twinges in his Mark were getting stronger and more frequent. He now had to take potions in advance when he knew he'd be seeing Hermione Granger.<p>

What kind of idiot allows himself to be seen socially with a Mudblood when the Dark Lord might be coming back?

It was a fact that Yaxley had kept denying to himself for some time, but he feared that the Auror office was onto something. Merlin only knew where they got their information from, but something was happening, something big, and his time spent with Hermione was very dangerous. Some were already questioning it, and he knew that he had to work out a story, and fast.

But above all, she could never know that he was a Death Eater. At the very least, he couldn't allow her to believe it. She already knew that he looked down on Muggleborns, which was confusing to both of them, considering their relation… no. Not a relationship.

…Well, whatever it was, he was determined not to think about it that night. It was the first time – and hopefully not the last – that he would be attending the Ministry's Christmas Ball as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Was it vanity to keep checking himself in the mirror? He certainly wasn't going to such lengths for a Mudblood, no matter how high up in the Ministry she was (his fault), and no matter who her friends were (_not_ his fault). At least he had the money to afford the best dress robes available, something which was expected of Pureblood families. Cut well, buttons polished to a brilliant shine, wand holster concealed magically, everything in order. He was, to be perfectly honest, looking his best.

He knew her address from her résumé, and decided to surprise her by going there instead of meeting her at the Ministry of Magic, as they had originally planned. It was good to keep her on her toes.

* * *

><p>"Just a minute!" she called when she heard the knock. Good grief! Who could it be at this hour on Christmas Eve? She pulled on her second shoe and hurried to the front door, whereupon she yanked it open. "What is… it…"<p>

She swallowed as she trailed off, taking him in. She didn't notice his eyes roaming over her.

Rather than choosing red or green, Hermione had opted to wear a purple gown. It had sleeves which reached her elbows, tapering to two points on either side, and the dress itself ended just above her ankles. The bodice – with a Queen Anne neckline – was made of finer satin than the rest of the dress, and the neckline, cuffs and hem were all trimmed with white. The skirt had enough material to make dancing easier, and also had a readily accessible pocket for her wand. The whole thing had also been spelled to be resistant to any spills, stains, rips or magic.

Yes. She was that mistrusting. She remembered what happened in movies like _Cinderella_.

Yaxley cleared his throat and looked away, missing Hermione's blush when she realised that she'd been staring at him.

"I'm almost ready," she said. "I'm not late, am I?"

"No," he said. "You're not late at all."

"Good," she said, making her way to the dining table. She picked up her favourite beaded bag, slung it over her shoulder, and then picked up the velvet wrap which matched the dress and shoes. "Ready!"

"Not quite," he said, pulling out a long, thin box. He held it out to her. "Try this on."

She smiled at the choker inside. It was white, with what looked like a plain gemstone in the middle. He helped her put it on, made easier by the fact that she was wearing her hair up, though she shivered nonetheless as his fingers brushed her skin.

As soon as the piece of jewellery was on, the stone changed to just the right purple to match her outfit, which Hermione saw as soon as she looked in the hall mirror. She touched it and smiled at her escort in the reflection.

"Thank you," she said. "It feels like Christmas already."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm not quite sure where the choker came from. I had toyed with the idea, and then when I checked out necklines and decided on the Queen Anne one, the website said that only a choker should be worn with it, if any necklace at all. Fate again.<strong>

**As for Yaxley's predicament, we'll see what happens when we get there, shall we? And what's with the gift-giving? What does it all mean?**


	7. The Second Dance

"The Second Dance"

The Ministry of Magic's ballroom was alight with more candles than usual, and long tables inhabited the far sides of the room. The orchestra was already playing, though no one was dancing yet. Clearly Minister Bones had yet to arrive. She had to start the ball rolling – Hermione almost snickered at her internal pun – which meant that no one could dance, though they were allowed to eat and drink a little.

"Come over this way," Yaxley said, leading her to one of the sides after they had been announced at the doorway.

"I don't really know any of these people, except a few from work," she whispered, holding his arm just a bit tighter. He glanced at her.

"You will be fine, Miss Granger. I know them well enough for both of us. You know the Weasleys, do you not?"

"Well, I was really referring to _your_ friends," she said. "I don't know them at all." But they had reached the group of people by now, and she shut up quickly, waiting for her date to make the introductions.

When had she started thinking of him as her 'date'?

When I realised that thisis the dictionary definition of what a date should be like, she thought, her heart racing.

"Good evening," Yaxley said, and received polite greetings in return, as well as some strange looks. "Miss Granger, allow me to introduce you. Belinda Zabini," who was, indeed, beautiful, Hermione thought, "Silvius and Clarissa Crabbe, Geoffrey and Freda Goyle, and Parthenia and Caspian Greengrass. Marcus Flint you already know, I believe?"

"We've met," she said, thinking back to her second year. But she didn't have time to say anything else as the Malfoys turned up.

"Lucius, Narcissa," Yaxley said, inclining his head. Hermione suppressed a shiver when she again recalled her second year, or just before, when Mr. Malfoy had spoken about her parents, and when he gave Ginny that cursed diary. Her hands tightened their grip on her escort's arm. "Where is Draco?"

"He is with Pansy and Blaise," Narcissa said. "Good evening, Miss Granger."

"Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said. She was faintly surprised when the older woman held out her hand, and quickly shook it. Yaxley was relieved that she had let go, however briefly, as it was his left arm she was clinging to.

It seemed to take an age making small-talk with his friends, and she was relieved when Amelia Bones finally turned up.

"Do you need a drink?" Yaxley asked quietly while everyone was applauding.

"After that? Yes," Hermione said. He chuckled and helped her over to the drinks table.

"The bowls for the Christmas punch are spell- and potion-resistant," he said. "But there _is_ alcohol in it, so don't drink too much."

"Wouldn't dream of it," she muttered. Nevertheless, she drank half of it in one go, and helped herself to a canapé. Then she finished off the drink and placed the empty glass on the table. It disappeared immediately, and she noticed an empty plate further down the table suddenly fill up again. She looked up at him.

"House elves," he said.

"You mean they're enslaved by the Ministry as well?"

"Only seconded for occasions such as this," he said, and he took a sip of his own drink.

"But they are _paid_ for their trouble, aren't they?" she asked. He frowned.

"Why would they be paid?" he asked. Then his expression cleared. "That's right. I remember. You're a house elf crusader, aren't you?"

"They should have their rights, same as everyone else," Hermione said. "It's slave labour."

"So the Thestrals who pull the Hogwarts carriages should be paid for their work?"

"What? No," she said, shaking her head. "That's different."

"How?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Well, for one thing, they don't work all the year round. For another, they don't speak a human language – and can't be seen by everyone – so how could they spend money? House elves, however, do the work of human servants, but they get none of the benefits. They receive no payment, no time off, no health cover, and are beaten by their _owners_, assuming they don't beat _themselves_ up in punishment!"

After that, she needed another drink, while he surreptitiously admired the way her chest heaved and her cheeks flushed with emotion. His eyes were back on her face before she looked up again.

"Better now?" he asked. She bit her lower lip.

"Sorry," she said. "I get a bit carried away when I'm passionate about something."

"Do you, now? How interesting." He held out his hand. "A dance?"

"Of course," she said, and she put her glass down again.

* * *

><p>While they moved around the dance floor, Hermione kept glancing around, and her movements were stiffer than usual. Yaxley squeezed her hand to get her attention.<p>

"Don't put all that hard work to waste," he said. She licked her lips nervously. "Keep your eyes on one point, if it helps you focus, and pretend that there's no one else here."

"I…"

"Hermione, just look at me." Their eyes met. "Good girl. Forget about the others, and think about the magic." She smiled and tilted her head.

"You really don't want me to fail, do you?" she said.

"After going to the trouble of repaying your help with a promotion? Absolutely not."

"Ah," she said, nodding. "I see. Once again the ulterior motive."

"Are you really that surprised, Miss Granger?"

"Not really, Mr. Yaxley. A bit… disappointed. But not surprised."

"'Disappointed'?"

"Never mind," she said. "Forget I said that. I… I meant something else."

"Very well." But he didn't look as though he believed her.

* * *

><p><strong>The shorter chapters really are a contrast to the chapters for "Captive at Number 12", aren't they?<strong>

**You know, I really regret not having learnt ballroom dancing. Any kind of dancing, for that matter. (Well, except bush dancing.) I should probably have consulted with my friend Emma, or with my Aunty Von or either of her daughters, since they all do/have done dancing at some point. Ah well. I'm not here to describe the dancing, despite the running theme in the fic. That is probably a very good reason to describe the dancing, actually. Meh.**

**Next chapter – trouble!**


	8. After the Dancing is Over

"After the Dancing is Over"

Hermione was smiling madly when she finally tugged Yaxley over towards the Weasleys, who had been watching the couple ever since they entered the ballroom.

"Hello!" she said, almost breathless with all the dancing. "How are you?"

"We're all right, Hermione," Arthur said, and he kissed her cheek. Molly pulled her into a bear hug.

"How are _you_, Hermione?" she asked, and she pulled back, only to cup the young woman's face in her hands. "Are you well? You're not in any trouble, are you?"

"No," she said, confused. "Why would I be in trouble?" She grinned. "I would have been in more trouble if I didn't accept his invitation."

"Is that so?" Arthur asked, his eyes narrowing at Yaxley, who arched an eyebrow.

"I'm joking, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said, carefully extracting herself. She took her place beside Yaxley again. "Really. Am I still welcome at the Burrow tomorrow for lunch?"

"Of course," Molly said, patting her arm. "When will you see your parents?"

"In the morning. Lunch is at one, isn't it?"

"Yes, dear. Say hello to your mother and father for us, won't you?"

"I will."

"Thank you for helping Hermione," Yaxley said, taking her arm in his, carefully noting the way their eyes narrowed further. "You've trained her well."

"You make me sound like a dog or something," Hermione said, mock-scowling at him.

"Far from the truth," he said softly. "Believe me. You are stunning."

She blushed and looked down.

"Would you dance with me, Molly?" Arthur asked. She nodded, and they bid Hermione good night as they passed on their way to the dance floor. She stared at them.

"They didn't greet you," she said. "Not really."

"Don't think on it, Hermione. I wouldn't have greeted them, either."

* * *

><p>After a night of dancing, drinking, eating and talking Hermione was glad to get home. She slipped her hand into Yaxley's and pulled him inside.<p>

"Wait here," she said, and she disappeared into a room that he guessed to be her bedroom. Before he could ponder this, he felt a stabbing ache in his arm and grabbed it, gritting his teeth. Not now. Whatever it was, it couldn't strike him now. If it continued, he would just have to say his good-nights and leave.

By the time he had schooled away the pain no doubt showing in his face, she had come back out. Sure enough, he could see a bed beyond the door.

"I got this for you," she said. "It may not be traditional, but I wanted to get something anyway." She held out what looked like a jewellery box. "It's for Christmas, so you can open it tomorrow. You… you can wear it to work."

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

Then there was an awkward pause. He wondered if he should ask her to come to his place for Christmas dinner, but that seemed too… intimate for whatever they had. And if he got her inside his house, there was no guarantee that he'd let her leave before the morning.

Finally, Hermione disturbed the silence when she held his shoulders for support and kissed him on the cheek.

"I had a lovely time tonight, Andrew," she whispered, her breath tickling his ear. His head turned and his gaze settled on her lips, which were but a few inches away. It would be simplicity itself to lean forward, yet…

"Good night, Miss Granger," he said, starting to pull back. He saw her face fall, but reminded himself that she was just a Mudblood. And he was in too deep.

Suddenly the clock chimed midnight, and she turned to look at it, her hands slipping down to his chest. It was a brief internal debate. He took a chance, and used the distraction to cup her cheek and capture her mouth with his, just for a few precious, heart-stopping seconds, before stepping away.

"Merry Christmas," he said, and he left her flat as quickly as possible, missing her smile.

* * *

><p>When he returned to his manor he went to the living room, which was bigger than Hermione's entire flat. He had already received trinkets from his colleagues and distant relatives, and his cards were hanging above the fireplace. He placed her gift on the mantelpiece, right in the centre, and looked at it for a few minutes. It was technically Christmas Day by now, but he decided to go to bed for…<p>

"Aargh!" He grabbed his arm. It had never burned like this before. Not since…

He grew pale. It couldn't be the Dark Lord. The Auror Office had been talking about the Dark Lord coming back, but it couldn't be. He was dead. He was gone.

…He had to go, damn it. If this was real, then it would be his head if he didn't show up. With a few swishes of his wand he had changed clothes and Summoned his old Death Eater robes and mask. Once dressed, he pressed his wand to his Mark and Disapparated.

* * *

><p><strong>I told you there was trouble ahead. Want some more? *Sniggers*<strong>


	9. Dance with the Devil

"Dance with the Devil"

_He wasn't the first one there, but he certainly wasn't the last, as others kept arriving after him. A tall, pale man was standing in the centre, and Yaxley joined the growing ring around him, wondering how many of the others had still been at the ball when they were summoned to their former master's side._

_Former? he thought. Not anymore…_

Grasping for air, Yaxley sat up in bed, his head dropping back as he tried to catch his breath. That was all. It had only been a nightmare.

Then he saw the cloak and mask sitting on a chair beside his bed, and the non-formal clothes that he had changed into to go out. He remembered that voice, those red eyes, that slit of a nose, and the sheer terror that the man – or thing – inspired. A shivering Pettigrew and a manic-eyed Crouch Junior had been nearby. And someone else…

"_You were able to break free of the curse, weren't you, Barty?" Voldemort said, and Crouch nodded. "And you brought your father here to make sure that he would be punished?"_

"_Yes, my lord," he said, falling to his knees before his master. "Always your loyal servant, my lord…"_

"_And yet there are others in Azkaban." The Dark Lord turned around, his eyes searching someone out. "They must be allowed to return to me."_

_He was distracted by Pettigrew, who was missing… good gods, he was missing a hand! While the Dark Lord tended to it, Yaxley noticed that Harry Potter had been tied to a gravestone in… well, whatever place they were in. He was struggling to free himself, or at least get to his wand. He kept glancing at Bartemius Crouch Senior, who was lying nearby, barely conscious._

_There shouldn't have been any conflicting emotions. The old Yaxley would have been glad, if scared, to be there. The new Yaxley, the one courting Hermione…_

His eyes widened as he thought of that, back in his bed at the manor. Not courting. He wasn't courting her. But they had been seen out together too often, had danced together at the ball, and – against his better judgement – he had kissed her at midnight.

He should have known that she would be trouble, ever since she touched his hand to stop him from pouring a glass of tainted punch.

"_Yaxley."_

_That voice gave him the chills (the bad kind), and he stepped forward and dropped to one knee._

"_My lord," he said. "It is a miracle to see you again."_

"_And yet you never tried to find me, either." Voldemort tilted his head up using his wand. "If you are so pleased to see me, why is this?"_

"_Forgive me, my lord. I have been working my way up in the Ministry…"_

"_What position do you hold?"_

"_The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, master." The Dark Lord smiled._

"_Then you are perfectly placed to help," he said._

"_Anything, my lord. You know that I only live to serve you."_

"_If you did not before, you will now."_

He shuddered as he remembered his promise. He hated Azkaban, but now he had to find a way to break his old friends out, and do it without anyone knowing who was responsible. It was bad enough that he would have to do a cover-up.

What worried him even more was the Hermione Situation. What would happen when the Dark Lord found out, or was told, about it? And what would happen if Hermione discovered that he bore the Dark Mark?

One last thing had happened before he was granted permission to leave. Somehow, Potter had gotten free, and began to duel with Voldemort. He had a large gash in his side, and was no doubt weak from blood loss, but put up a hell of a fight, so much so that he managed to escape, and with Barty Crouch Senior. This made the son go mad, so everyone else was dismissed, except for Pettigrew, who was still a (sort of) fugitive.

If he was lucky, neither Potter nor Crouch would have heard his conversation with the Dark Lord, although it was a fair bet that there would be attempts to stop a break-out.

Therefore, it had to be soon.

* * *

><p>"Hermione!" Ginny called, stepping out of the fireplace. Hermione had been dreaming about the ball, and that kiss afterwards. She had put away the choker very carefully, and the dress was hanging up to air. She nearly fell out of bed when she heard her friend yelling.<p>

"W-what? What is it, Ginny?" she asked, trying not to yawn. But the redhead's look of panic was enough to wake her up. She jumped out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown. "What's happened?"

"Ron flooed this morning. He was at St. Mungo's with Harry and Mr. Crouch, who was supposed to be at the Christmas Ball last night, but never showed up. He hadn't been heard from in a few days, actually, and with good reason…"

"Slow down," Hermione said, holding onto her friend's arms. "Do you need me to go anywhere with you immediately?"

"Um… not really…"

"Then give me time to get ready and have some breakfast, then tell me everything when I'm in a clearer state of mind, all right?" Ginny nodded. "Okay. Go and sit down in the lounge room, and I'll be through as soon as I can. I'll even use magic to speed up the process."

"All right. It's just…"

"What is it, Ginny?"

"You-Know-Who's back."

* * *

><p><strong>That's it for this chapter.<strong>


	10. Rain Dance

"Rain Dance"

The next time they saw each other was at work. Hermione didn't know Yaxley's address, so she couldn't invite him over for dinner, and then thought that he was avoiding her because of the kiss.

But she would remind herself that there were higher priorities now that Voldemort was back. (That didn't stop the dreams, though…)

He avoided her gaze all through the meeting, but she supposed that it was just as well. If he'd looked at her with even a tenth of the tenderness in that kiss, her blush would have broken through her make-up.

Afterwards she tried to speak to him, but he engaged someone else in conversation, and she had to return to work. In her division she was trying to change the laws of underage magic so that under-seventeens could defend themselves without getting into trouble. That was another puzzling thing. She kept trying to bring up the plan, but before she could speak he would start another topic, until the end of the meeting.

Brilliant. He had finally managed to dispel her suspicions that people were out to get her, then did an about-face and decided to start undermining her himself! And to think that she had feelings for…

"No," she said firmly. Then she realised that she had spoken out loud, and looked up.

"So the plan _hasn't_ been approved?" Adam Greengrass – Daphne's cousin – asked. He was junior to Hermione now, but still several years older, and he never showed her any respect, partly because he had been Acting Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office before she was selected for the job. She was flustered for a moment.

"Uh, no," she said. "No, it hasn't been approved."

"What happened?" he asked. "Lover's tiff?"

She slammed him against the wall, hand at his throat and wand barely touching his nose.

"I earned the highest marks out of _everyone_ in my year at Hogwarts, quite a few years before that, and no one has yet matched them," she hissed. "I am also the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office – your _boss_ – and you will _never_ speak to me in that tone again, nor will you _ever _make such insinuations again, or I will make the Cruciatus Curse look like a walk in the park! Am. I. Clear?" He cleared his throat and nodded, still eyeing her wand. "Good. Now move on, Greengrass. I have work to do."

* * *

><p>Yaxley could tell that Hermione was confused. He felt badly about that, but knew that things had to be this way.<p>

The Azkaban break-out had been almost too easy to arrange, with the Auror Office in chaos and trying to avoid the press. Crouch had testified that Pettigrew was actually alive, and Potter had – strangely enough – made it his priority to get Sirius Black's name cleared. They were all so distracted that they never thought to ensure that the Dark Lord's servants couldn't escape, thus making it simple. He covered his trail – covered the trails of everyone involved – and it was done.

Now he had to push Hermione away, not wanting her to get involved. She would have enough trouble of her own, and he… he couldn't be seen with her anymore, in anything other than a professional capacity, if that. And the memory of her lips still lingered on his skin. If he even dared to speak to her in the workplace, he would be sorely tempted to repeat the kiss, and potentially do more.

Just then, a memo landed on his desk. He recognised the writing.

_Dear Mr. Yaxley,_

_We did not have the time to discuss a certain subject during the meeting. It is in relation to the laws about underage magic. Do you have an appointment free today?_

_H. Granger._

He sighed. Well, he might as well get it over with. But there would be no lunch out. He couldn't risk it.

Really.

* * *

><p><em>Miss Granger,<em>

_Meet me for dinner at our place in Flerd Alley. Seven o'clock. We will discuss the problem then._

_Yaxley._

It wasn't as funny as it used to be, his assumption that she had nothing else on. Maybe it was because he was avoiding her for some reason? Not that this was exactly avoiding her, since he had invited her out to dinner. Perhaps there was hope after all?

Hope for what? she wondered. What do I want from this, from him?

From us?

* * *

><p>An emergency meeting with the Dark Lord drove all other thoughts from Yaxley's mind. There were two planned assassinations on his agenda, neither of which were Harry Potter; apparently Voldemort wanted to kill him personally, whereas he was less concerned about the others. Just that they had to be removed.<p>

Amelia Bones.

Albus Dumbledore.

"Damn it," he said when he heard a knock at the front door over the sound of the storm. His didn't want his house elf to get it, but he couldn't stop staring at Hermione's present, which was still above the fireplace, unopened and in plain view of anyone in the room.

He turned around and signalled to his elf.

"I will see to it," he said. "Back to the kitchen, Tolby."

"Yes, master," he said, bowing, and he disappeared with a pop.

There was more knocking as he approached, and he quickened his steps. It was very unlikely to be the Dark Lord paying a call, but the sound was irritating to him.

"What is it?" he asked, opening the door. Then his breath caught.

Hermione was standing there, shivering, in thick clothes which were nevertheless soaked through. She was wearing a white blouse underneath her jacket, and he could see it peeking out between the lapels, almost see-through now. Her make-up was streaked, and he hoped that it was just from the rain.

"Y-you d-didn't show u-up," she said. She pulled her coat tighter around her. "I s-sat there for ages, all alone." She sniffled. "W-why didn't you come?"

He couldn't reply. Not at first.

Sometimes he loathed having to think quickly.

"Something more important came up," he said. Her mouth dropped open.

"M-more important th-than me?" she whispered.

"Yes."

Lightning lit up her pale face, and he swore that he could see tears in her eyes. But there couldn't be tears in her eyes. Not for him. Not for a Death Eater.

"Is that all?" he asked. The rain was coming down more heavily now. He wanted to invite her in, but if anyone was watching the manor…

"Um, th-there was s-something that we w-were going to d-discuss," she said. She kept glancing behind him, and he knew that she wanted to enter. However, he just couldn't risk it. "Is now a good t-time?"

"No," he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. "I apologise for missing our dinner engagement, Miss Granger, but I had other matters to attend to, and you completely slipped my mind."

She shook her head slowly, staring at him. "Andrew…"

"That's Mr. Yaxley to you, Miss Granger. Do not forget your place."

"My p-p-_place_…?"

"Good night," he said, and he closed the door in her face.

As soon as he did it, he regretted it. He heard her gasp, not realising that it was a sob, and it went straight to the left side of his chest. He rested his head against the wood and breathed slowly, contemplating what he had done. There was no way…

No. He had to stay firm. He had to… he…

"Hermione!" he shouted, wrenching the door open.

She was gone.

* * *

><p>Back at her flat, Hermione went to her bedroom and pulled off all her wet clothes, tears mingling with the raindrops on her face. She tried to tell herself that she wasn't crying, that it was all from the weather, that she was just getting sick.<p>

Come to that, she would have to take a potion to prevent a cold. She would floo Professor Snape as soon as she was dried and dressed.

Yes. A potion would make everything better.

* * *

><p><strong>Decided to end the chapter here for reasons that have yet to come to me.<strong>


	11. The Mating Dance

**Warning: Adult-type touching around the middle of the chapter. I don't know how else to put it, quite frankly.**

"The Mating Dance"

At the next meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione was barely able to concentrate. It wasn't until she heard Snape mention that the last time Voldemort had called anyone to his side was the night of the storm. He made the call to certain people at about half past six, and Lucius – one of the Death Eaters summoned to his side – had only returned home a couple of hours later, according to Narcissa.

Hermione could have sworn that her heart stopped beating. Harry and Ron kept telling her that Yaxley was a Death Eater, but she had refused to believe it.

Until now.

But she wouldn't _truly_ believe it until she saw the evidence for herself.

'Think like a Slytherin', Remus had said at the party.

It was time to follow his advice.

* * *

><p>Yaxley was summoned to the Dark Lord that night. He kept thinking about Hermione, and had a bad feeling that he had been called to talk about her.<p>

He was right.

"I have heard, Yaxley, that you have been spending time with the Mudblood friend of Harry Potter," Voldemort said.

"That… that is right, my lord."

"You are courting her?"

"Of course not, my lord! I have merely been keeping an eye on her. Supporting Potter's best friend is a large part of why I am where I am at the Ministry."

"The word is that you like the girl."

"Is it?" He tried to remain calm.

"And that she likes you. That you are… together?"

"Absolutely not, my lord. I would never sully myself with a Mudblood. Nor would her friends ever allow her to be associated in that way with a Slytherin."

"Yet she allows herself to be courted by you," Voldemort said, stroking Nagini. Before Yaxley could speak he continued. "We believe that she is a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

"I have stopped seeing her, master."

The Dark Lord stood quickly.

"No," he said. "You must continue. Watch her, court her, seduce her if you can stomach it, but do whatever is necessary to make her like you. I want her to believe anything you say, and tell you anything you want to know."

"You wish me to… spy on her, my lord?" he asked.

"Yes, Yaxley. Why?" He sat back down and leaned forward. "Can you not handle it? Should I get someone else?"

"No, my lord," he said. "I can do this. I _will_ do this."

"Splendid."

* * *

><p>It was perfect timing. Hermione hadn't been sure whether she should interrupt Yaxley at work or wait for a summons. But he had sent for her, which would make this easier.<p>

And she wouldn't have a chance to back out now.

"Good morning, Hermione," he said, letting her in. He closed the door behind her.

"I thought that it was 'Miss Granger'… Mr. Yaxley," she said, not looking at him. But she felt his touch on her shoulder.

"Hermione," he whispered, turning her around. She looked at him with moist eyes. "Forgive me. My conduct towards you since Christmas has been atrocious."

"Why?" she asked softly, placing a hand on his chest. "Why, Andrew?"

"Because I… I didn't mean to kiss you," he said. "But then I did, and I want to do it again, and I shouldn't, because you're so much younger and I'm your boss…"

"You want to kiss me?"

"Yes."

She tilted her head to the side.

"Then why don't you?" she said.

Slowly, he leaned down, and their lips met. She whimpered as he pulled her close, cuddling her, deepening the kiss.

In the next moment he had her pressed against a filing cabinet, stroking her back as they got even more involved. He barely noticed her fingers as they unbuttoned his vest and removed his tie. He _did_ feel her tickling touch as she began to undo his shirt, and broke away from her.

"I want to get closer to you," she said, pushing his jacket and vest off together. He grabbed her hands before she could finish unbuttoning his shirt.

"Don't do this," he said.

"You don't want me?"

"Yes, I do, I do. But here…?"

"I just want to feel you," she said, running her hands over the warm skin of his torso.

"Hermione, you shouldn't do this. I'm too old for you. And we… we work together. You should be at… work…" He closed his eyes as she nuzzled his throat and began to place kisses on his neck.

"Don't turn me away again," she whispered. She undid the last of the buttons and began to pull on his collar.

"No!" he said firmly, gripping her sides. "You cannot…"

"I love you."

He breathed heavily as he stared at her. "What?"

"I love you," she repeated, putting as much honesty into it that she could, hoping to throw him off-balance. She must have succeeded, because his eyes never left hers, and she was able to push the shirt over his shoulders and down to his wrists.

Finally, she tore her gaze away to look at his left arm. She gasped and turned around, clapping a hand to her mouth. He swore and there was a rustle of fabric. When she dared to look again he was doing up the buttons.

"Hermione," he began.

"You're one of his."

"Please, listen to…"

"You're one of his! I defended you to my friends, and all this time…" She shook her head. "And to think I really _did _care for you," she whispered.

"You do?" he asked, stepping forward. She backed off.

"I thought I did," she said. "But I could _never_ love a Death Eater." Then she whirled out of his office.

"Damn it!" He started to pick up his clothes, and then remembered that he could use magic to get dressed. A wave of his wand and a few seconds later he was walking through the hallways at top speed. He didn't want to draw attention to himself – nor create unnecessary panic – by running, but he had no idea whether Hermione was going to leave right away, or if she would even return to her cubicle first.

He was surprised to find that she was back at work as though nothing had happened, completely impassive. She remained so when he cleared his throat.

"Can I help you, Mr. Yaxley?" she asked, her steady voice carrying. A few people looked up. He couldn't help but feel annoyed that he was clearly agitated while she was sitting there, calmly working away.

"We never… finished our discussion," he said, eyes flickering between her and the people nearby.

"Ah, yes. Here." She picked up a file and held it over her shoulder so that he could take it. "I intended to present it earlier, but the opportunity never arose. Take a look."

He opened it and saw meticulous notes, with many references in the margins. This would take awhile.

"I'll read it right away," he muttered, tucking the folder under his arm. "Hermione…"

"Mr. Yaxley, I am busy. There is no need for us to talk to each other again until you have read the proposal."

Shaken, he nodded, and made his way back to his office. He didn't realise that he was there until he reached his door, and even then his hand shook ever so slightly as he turned the door knob.

* * *

><p>There were delays each time he tried to catch her after work. But then she used to leave late, whereas now she was going on time; and with the Dark Lord's return things were busier than normal at the Ministry, making the days longer.<p>

He had read all about the changes that she and the rest of her office wished to make to the legislation regarding underage magic. He finally had an excuse for them to talk… and now it was more difficult than ever to get hold of her! Although he was sure that her friends had something to do with that.

He sent one memo:

_Hermione,_

_May I take you to dinner so that we can talk about your division's proposal?_

_Andrew._

He received one reply:

_Mr. Yaxley,_

_No, you may not. The correct protocol is for you to call a meeting._

_H. Granger._

And that was that.

* * *

><p>On Friday night he was staring into the fire. After the heat became too much for his eyes, he looked up and saw Hermione's present, partially hidden by a vase just in case someone visited him. Now he retrieved the gift, pulled the ribbon off, and opened the box for the first time.<p>

Inside was a lapel pin with the letters 'DMLE' spelled out in entwined, silver snakes with emerald eyes. It was tasteful, well-made, and… he had never seen anything like it in his life, nor had he ever received something so personal. It rested atop a folded note, which he opened carefully.

_Dear Andrew,_

_I hope that this will remind you of how far you've come, and that at least one person is proud of you. Until a few months ago, we barely knew each other, and now I look forward to each day on the off-chance that I may see you._

_This is because I care about you. I think I cared about you ever since the benefit, maybe even before. That could be why I helped you that night: because I respect and like you._

_In case I forget to tell you afterwards, I had a wonderful time tonight._

_Love,_

_Hermione._

* * *

><p>Severus Snape sighed as he stood up and walked to his door. The Dark Lord had wanted to foist Pettigrew off onto him, but Fate smiled on him for once, and the Animagus had been caught when he ventured out one day, so that took care of him, especially when Crouch Junior – who was nearby – had killed him before he could tell the Aurors where Voldemort was.<p>

That landed Crouch in jail; now the only nutter left was Voldemort. Well, and Bellatrix Lestrange.

He nearly pulled his door off its hinges, but managed to hide his astonishment when he saw Yaxley there, shoulders slumped as he stood in the rain which had started but a few minutes ago. It was heavy enough for the blond man to be utterly drenched. Add to that his look of helpless misery, and even Snape was able to feel pity.

"Severus," Yaxley said, his voice hoarse. "I've made a terrible mistake. I… I need your help."

"With what?"

"I want to defect. I want to spy for Dumbledore."

* * *

><p><strong>Huzzah! Excitement.<strong>

**The last line of Hermione's letter was inspired by "Pretty Woman". Thought that I should credit it, for safety's sake.**

**By the way, my mother and I have recently become victims of internet data allowance theft... and iTunes credit theft. Therefore, I've been leaving a number of websites and spending less time on the net, especially since all our data allowance is gone now, so our service has been slowed down. I will definitely be staying with ffnet, but if something odd happens, don't blame me. We'll try to sort it out. And, as I said to Glorioux, if anyone dares to mess with my fan fics I will Run. Them. Down. (Misquoting "Grey's Anatomy" there...)**


	12. A New Dance Begins

"A New Dance Begins"

The two men sat across from each other. Yaxley knew that Snape had slipped a dose of Veritaserum into his tea; and, although he was powerful enough to overcome it – and intelligent enough to equivocate masterfully had that not been the case – he wanted to be able to speak the truth to the younger man, even if it meant his death. What was the point in living without Hermione?

"Will you permit me to use Legillimancy on you?" Snape asked.

"Of course."

"I never thought that you could be so foolhardy."

"I am not in a position to approach Dumbledore directly," Yaxley said, playing with his near-empty mug. "There was no one else I could talk to about this."

"Are you aware of the danger in which you have placed yourself?" he said. "If the Dark Lord were to find out…"

"Then he would kill me."

"And he would kill _me_ if I did not hand you over immediately for this betrayal."

"Then do it, Severus. In fact, you could 'Avada' me now and tell him why if it secures your position. I just… cannot go on like this. I cannot work for him when I _feel_ like this! Can't you understand, man?"

Snape levelled his wand at the other's face.

"Legillimens," he said.

And he saw the truth.

Flashes of dancing… an interview from almost four years ago… meetings with the Dark Lord… a stolen kiss… dreams (which he skipped over when he realised their content)… an argument… a confession… hurt… guilt… love…

_Despair._

Yaxley collapsed back in his seat as soon as it was over, hoping that he had not been mistaken in placing his trust in Severus Snape. He waited while his friend thought it over.

"Wait here," he said, and Yaxley nodded as Snape left the room. Less than a minute later he returned with Albus Dumbledore, who merely looked curious, not judgemental.

"Andrew Yaxley," he said. "I believe you have something to tell me?"

"Yes, sir."

* * *

><p>Severus stepped into the dining room of Grimmauld Place first, followed by Yaxley. There was immediate silence.<p>

"Good evening," Dumbledore said, pleasant as always. Everyone else looked at Yaxley with varying degrees of mistrust, but his eyes sought one person.

"Hello, Hermione," he said. She stared at him for a few seconds, then jumped to her feet.

"You can't be here," she said, fists on the table. "Albus, he has to go. You have to… _do_ something."

"Hermione," Dumbledore said gently.

"He's a Death Eater!" she shouted. "He'll betray us, just like he…" She stopped where she was, shaking uncontrollably. Ron and Harry tugged her back into her chair. She looked down at her hands, now resting on the table, while the rest all sat down for the meeting to start. Cruel Fate – or perhaps a twinkly-eyed headmaster – had arranged for Yaxley to sit across from Hermione, which made both of them uncomfortable.

"Now, Mr. Yaxley wishes to spy for us," Dumbledore said. "This will make things easier on Severus." He frowned at Sirius before the former convict could comment. "At least, that is my hope."

"And you trust him?" Remus asked.

"Yes, I do. He has a very good reason for wishing to change sides."

"What reason?" Harry asked, looking at the man in question. "Why are you defecting?"

Yaxley looked across the table at Hermione. She was watching him.

"For her," he said. "Hermione, I know I hurt you, and badly at that. You have no reason to trust me, or believe anything that I say, and I certainly don't expect a thing from you. Let alone your… your heart." He took a deep breath as he glanced down at his hands. "I cannot take back what's happened and all that I've done, but I want to help make this world a safer place for you, whether or not I ever play a part in your future."

She swallowed. Everyone was clearly awaiting her reply.

"H-how can I believe you? How do I know that you wouldn't turn at the last moment to save your own ar…" She looked at the rest of the mixed company. "Life." He looked up, his eyes flashing.

"Because I refuse to be the hypocrite who works against Muggleborns while I'm in _love_ with one!" he said – loudly.

There was a shocked pause; then she bolted for the exit. He barely managed to intercept her at the door, having been surprised himself when he realised his admission. But he knew it to be true, and had to stop her leaving.

"Hermione…"

"Let me go."

"Hermione!" he bellowed, holding tight to her arms. She stopped struggling, and he lowered his voice. "I said that you didn't have to believe me, but believe this _one thing_: I love you. Somehow, you made me fall in love with you, during all those dances, those lunches… and that kiss." She flushed – he hoped it wasn't in anger. "I can live with you hating me… because I think I might have to. But I don't want to _die_ with you hating me, so if I can at least have your forgiveness before I undertake this… then that would be greatly appreciated."

She looked away and sighed. But then she nodded, and his shoulders dropped with relief.

"Thank you," he said. He released her, and then returned to his seat. Hermione copied his actions slowly, sliding into place between her two best friends, who immediately adopted protective stances, scowling at Yaxley. He ignored all three, and turned instead to Dumbledore, ready for his first assignment as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

><p><strong>I had this scene in my head for ages, like many of the others. Don't worry! We'll get back to some 'courting' soon (i.e. next chapter), especially because Yaxley's supposed to be sugaring up Hermione on Lord V's orders. Plus, it would look suspicious if they suddenly stopped seeing each other, wouldn't it?<strong>

**Yes. It would.**


	13. The Third Dance

**Warning: Again, adult themes. There should be a name for this kind of warning.**

"The Third Dance"

"_Swear that you will not betray me – or anyone else in the Order – to the Dark Lord, unless Albus tells you to…"_

"_I swear it."_

Yaxley and Hermione had been known not to talk to each other while dancing, although the silence usually looked far more intimate. The couple couldn't help it, of course. She was trying to show more affection than she allowed herself to feel, and he was trying not to show his true feelings for her.

Having her in his arms like this, though, even in public, was damn well putting a lot of strain on him. There were so many things that he wanted to say, and he could only do it when there was no guarantee that she would run off. If only such things were not so private, and if only there was no chance of them being overheard! But at this function for the visiting dignitaries from overseas, there were too many people around who could report suspicious behaviour back to the Dark Lord.

"You shine as always this evening, Hermione," he said. (This was him being restrained.)

"Thank you, Andrew," she said, trying to sound more than just polite. "You look… handsome, as usual. Very well-dressed. Black suits you."

Dumbledore had given them a story to explain their temporary 'separation': after the Christmas ball they were worried that they were getting too close for mere co-workers, so they tried to stop seeing each other, only it made things more awkward. It was still difficult for them to rekindle the previous magic, but that at least added truthfulness to their story.

"_You know what you must do, Hermione," the headmaster said, frowning at her. "This is important."_

"_I've been doing my best, Albus, but don't you think that it's unrealistic for me to jump into bed with him?" she asked. He raised his eyebrows._

"_My dear, you are simply going to accept his invitation into the manor."_

"_And what if it's all a trap?"_

_Yaxley looked away, trying once again not to feel hurt. She was still wary of him, even after all these weeks – indeed, months – as a spy._

"_We don't have to do this, sir," he said, glancing at Dumbledore. "Miss Granger is clearly uncomfortable with it. You know that I wouldn't set out to trap her… not now. My concern is that whoever might be watching my house – if someone _is_ watching it – may think it a perfect time to summon the Dark Lord."_

"_Then you must make sure that such a thing will not occur."_

So Yaxley had told Voldemort that he was going to ply Hermione with drinks at the ball to loosen her tongue about private matters, since she generally only talked about work (which was consistent enough with her usual pattern of behaviour so as not to raise questions). Then he was going to ask her to come back to his manor, where he hoped to get a good amount of information out of her, with the advantage of her likely not remembering what happened due to alcohol.

The plan appealed to the Dark Lord.

Once upon a time, it would have appealed to Yaxley, too. The thought disgusted him.

"You don't look happy," Hermione said. He thought that he could hear some of the old concern in her voice. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he said, squeezing her hand. "Nothing's the matter."

"Okay," she said. Then she noticed that the Malfoys seemed to be getting closer.

"_Won't you be there?" Hermione asked Dumbledore. "So many of these foreign witches and wizards have a great respect for you. If anyone can get them to help in the fight against Voldemort, you can."_

"_The Minister has requested it," he said, smiling at her. "So I shall be there. But after you leave, you are on your own."_

"_Not _entirely_ on her own," Yaxley said. The other members of the Order looked at each other uneasily. Most of them trusted him by now, especially since he had taken an oath not to betray any of them, but they were very protective of Hermione._

"_Of course not," Dumbledore said. "You will take every precaution, won't you?"_

"_I'm not an idiot, headmaster."_

"_No, dear boy. Now, Hermione, I think that it would be best – strategically – if you were to wear a green dress."_

So she was wearing a dark green evening gown made of a material that shimmered in the light, and clung gently to her form. She also wore the choker, and the stone had changed to match the dress once again.

"Would you like another drink?" he asked when the dance came to the end. The Crabbes were also nearby. Hermione nodded, fearing that if she drank too much she would really be relying on Yaxley's sense of honour.

* * *

><p>The clock in the manor was chiming one o'clock when they arrived. Yaxley was supporting a flushed and giggling Hermione, and he hoped that most of it was just an act. In that dress, and with his feelings for her, he would be hard put not to take advantage of her weakened state.<p>

Tolby wisely stayed out of the way as his master led the young woman into the living room. He returned to the kitchen in case he was needed.

They sat on the couch, and while Yaxley tried to maintain a respectable distance from her, Hermione kept moving closer to him, stroking his arm and rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

"What do you intend to do with me?" she asked, slipping her hand into his while the other sat in the crook of his elbow. "What are your _wicked_ intentions, Mr. Yaxley?" She buried her nose in the cloth of his robe and sniffed deeply. "Mmm. Such a manly… _aroma_…"

"Hermione, don't test me. We're here to talk, aren't we?"

"I bet that's what they all say." She shuffled until her legs were curled up in front of her, with her right leg hooked over his knees. He bit his tongue, trying to restrain himself. "I'm so cold in only this gown." She looked at him from beneath her long lashes. "Will you warm me up?"

"Gods forgive me," he murmured, eyeing the smooth skin encased in sheer stockings. "I'm only human." He hitched her leg up higher and she smiled drunkenly. He shook his head to clear it. "Hermione… you're making me forget to be a gentleman…"

"Forget away," she said, and before he could stop her she had launched herself forward to straddle his lap, causing his hand to ride up under the slit of the dress. They both gasped.

"You don't want to do this," he said, and he swallowed as she gave him yet another smouldering look. Merlin, how he wanted to do this…

"Don't you love me?" she asked, and she pouted as she fiddled with the clasp of his evening cloak.

"Yes, I love you. But…"

"I love you, too," she said. He stared at her.

"No, you don't."

"I _do_," she said, slapping his chest. Then she slumped onto him. "Andrew, I've loved you for sooooooo long." She kissed his ear and his eyes snapped shut. "Don't you want me?"

"Yes," he said. It was a choked sound. "Bloody hell, yes. I could take you right here."

"Then why don't you?"

He remembered her speaking those words once before, when she was essentially asking for a kiss. He gave her what she wanted then.

Carefully, he moved her off his lap. Then he scooped her up in his arms and, between kisses, began to carry her upstairs. It wasn't until she seemed to be less enthusiastic, and then went entirely limp, that he realised she had fallen asleep.

He sighed in relief. Fate was on both their sides that night, it seemed.

Except for the part where she said that she loved him. That kind of torture made him long for the Cruciatus Curse. A person knew where they stood with the Cruciatus Curse.

Was it a drunken confession, or had she just been trying to seduce him? She had used those words to trick him once before. No. It couldn't have been a confession. She would never love him. She had made that plain ever since she saw his Dark Mark.

He placed her on his bed and drew the covers over her. Severus had already given him a couple of Hangover Potions. It wouldn't help her remember the night before, which was just as well considering that he nearly took her to bed – in a more than just literal way.

With a last stroke of her cheek, Yaxley Transfigured the armchair near the bed into something more comfortable, wanting to be near in case she needed him.

Soon, he joined her in sleep.

* * *

><p><em>It was a lovely dream. They were all alone in a field, dancing between the long, waving strands of grass, laughing as though there was no Lord Voldemort, no Dark Mark, no war, no Ministry of Magic… just the two of them, together forever.<em>

_And yet, when they lay down side by side, and he placed a hand on her abdomen while gazing into her eyes, she knew that it wouldn't be the two of them for much longer._

_Oh, how she wished that real life reflected dreams, and that nightmares didn't reflect reality._

* * *

><p><em>He was having a wonderful dream. She was dressed in white, he was in the finest robes he had ever owned, and their guests were watching as they danced their first dance as husband and wife. She was glowing with happiness, and even he couldn't stop smiling with the feeling of her small, warm body pressed against his.<em>

_She… she was his._

He woke up with a burning sensation behind his eyelids. He could hear Hermione coughing in her sleep, and leapt to her side to wake and support her.

"It's okay, love," he said. "Come on." He rubbed her back. "It's all right, Hermione."

* * *

><p>When she woke in the morning her mouth tasted as though she'd been sick. Then she wondered where the hell she was, and what happened the previous night.<p>

Then several things registered.

She was in a strange room.

She was in a strange bed.

She was in familiar arms.

She was… fortunately still in her ball gown.

She sat up and looked around. His arms fell from around her to the sides of his body, which was lying at an angle on the bed, upper half supported by several pillows, one foot touching the floor. He had only removed his outer robes and shoes, which were on the carpet beside her heels. She could still feel the lingering sensation of his hands on her left arm and the back of her head. She also noticed a partially-Transfigured chair with a blanket on it which had been pulled askew, and a scrape mark on the floor.

"What happened?" she whispered. He groaned as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"What happened?" he said.

"I asked that first."

He looked down at her blearily. Then his eyes widened, and he didn't relax until he realised that they were both clothed.

"You fell asleep," he said. "I brought you upstairs…" He frowned. "I don't remember much…"

"I don't remember _anything_." She sighed, dropping her head into her hands. "Bloody Albus Dumbledore."

He chuckled and gently moved her out of the way so that he could stand. "I don't think you were supposed to stay here overnight."

"Just as long as we didn't do… anything bad," she said.

"We didn't. Clearly."

"Good." She breathed out slowly. "Good."

"I'd want to remember that," he said, too softly for her to hear. "Tolby!"

They both winced at his loud voice, and again when the house elf 'cracked' into the room. His eyes widened a bit when he saw his master standing and the young miss lying on the bed.

"Yes, master?" he said.

"You have a house elf?" she said. Then she shook her head. "Why am I surprised?"

"Tolby, bring the potions that Mr. Snape left for us," Yaxley said, ignoring Hermione's glare. "I cannot recall where they are." The elf bowed and disappeared.

"No 'please' or 'thank you'?" she said. "Just an order?"

"I'm not going to argue about this," he muttered, picking up his wand. He changed the chair back to its original state, grimacing when it moved across the floor noisily. "Just be glad that I am not one of those who abuses my servant. He helped me when I was a child, and I am eternally grateful to him. I would… be even more grateful if you didn't tell anyone that."

"What did he do?" she asked quietly.

"Looked after me when I was little, entertained me when my parents were too busy or disinterested, especially when I was ill and in isolation. House elves do not fall sick from human diseases, as you no doubt know." She nodded. "He was also my first teacher, showing me how to cut at precise angles and lengths, which was why I did well in Potions."

Tolby reappeared, stalling any further reminiscing.

"The potions, master," he said, holding out the two small vials. Yaxley handed one to Hermione.

"That will be all, Tolby," he said. The house elf departed again.

"I'm leaving," she said, getting to her feet. It had all become too awkward, and the lack of warmth between master and elf didn't convince her of his story. And she was still hung-over.

"Drink your potion first, Hermione." She was still scowling. "Please." He looked away as he tipped the liquid down his throat. He swallowed, and was provided with instant relief. "Thank Merlin. I'm going down for breakfast."

"Made by slave labour?"

"No one said that you had to stay!" he shouted, whirling around. She whimpered and clutched her head. He quickly lowered his voice. "You can use the fireplace in the living room. There's plenty of floo powder there. Don't try Apparating unless you take the potion first, and even then I don't recommend it."

She nodded, and he left her alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Do you want them back together sooner, rather than later?<strong>

**My thoughts exactly. That is why there will only be two chapters after this, of varying length, because I don't want to drag out the angst and the spying. It's just cruel to the characters, and it delays the ending something awful. Also, do you realise how hard it's been to come up with titles for these flipping instalments?**

**See ya!**

**(Ooh, and I'm dispensing with the horcruxes. I'm not going into that again.)**


	14. War Dance

"War Dance"

A little more time passed. Yaxley and Snape reported all they could to the Order, and strategies – _discreet _strategies – were arranged to protect Dumbledore and the Minister, knowing that they were high on Voldemort's hit list.

Hermione was continually wary of Yaxley. She had been stung badly. What confused her was why she had allowed their friendship/relationship/whatever it was to continue after her friends had told her that he was a suspected Death Eater. She'd had no reason to worry about it at the time… and yet they had also told her that Voldemort was trying to come back (again). Was it years of not being able to trust Harry's every judgement that had led her not to believe them?

She didn't like to consider the alternative. Because if it wasn't that… if it was in fact something to do with her subconscious…

* * *

><p>So talented at their work were the two spies that it wasn't until the battle to end all battles that their true allegiance was revealed.<p>

Much had been centred on the Ministry of Magic, and the Dark Lord wished to take it over, which was why he had got the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to organise the Minister's assassination – or so he thought. The Death Eaters who worked at the Ministry were told one plan, the same that was explained to Voldemort, a plan which led to a huge trap in that very building.

Then all hell broke loose, and Snape and Yaxley threw off their Death Eater garb.

That was a big hint that they were no longer loyal to Lord Voldemort.

This irritated him.

* * *

><p>Few Death Eaters could have matched Yaxley's skill. So, when Voldemort wasn't able to get to him, others took it upon themselves to follow his orders and try to punish him for being a traitor.<p>

Unfortunately, there were so many people and so little room that the battleground had spread out to other corridors. If it wasn't for the overseas allies' assistance, the Light would have fallen swiftly. As it was, family and friends were lost easily among the crowds, and it was fortune itself that cleared the way as more warriors from both sides fell while the fighting raged on.

Hermione could see that he and Dolohov were duelling fiercely and single-mindedly, causing others around them to keep away. Unwillingly, she was drawn towards them, fighting off others but hurrying ever faster to get there.

There was a purple flash from Dolohov's wand – his special curse – and Yaxley barely managed to Stun him before he went down.

She was almost clipped by a Slicing Hex, but Hermione ran to his side and collapsed to her knees beside him. She'd been saved by Silencing Dolohov last time – but he had spoken the curse aloud this time, and she didn't know what it might do.

"Andrew," she said, pulling Yaxley into her arms. He was barely conscious.

"Hermione," he whispered, and he breathed in her scent. "I wish…"

"You'll be all right," she said. The conflict was coming to a close as Harry and Voldemort battled it out and nearly everyone else stopped to watch. "We'll get you to St. Mungo's. I-it's happened to me before…"

"Wish you could have loved me," he said. She saw a single tear drop from the corner of his eye. "Would have… looked after you."

"Andrew, don't say things like that." She looked around, making sure that no one could attack them while they were distracted.

"Sorry." He rubbed his nose against her robes. "Love you so much."

"Look!" she exclaimed just after the green flash in the distance. The Dark Lord was on the ground, and people were beginning to realise that he was dead. It seemed almost anticlimactic. "Voldemort's gone. Harry won. It's all right now!"

"Hermione," he said, shifting a bit. He wanted to be comfortable at the end, and being held by her was the best he could hope for.

"Shh." She caressed his cheek. "You'll be at St. Mungo's before you know it. I just need to get some help…" She started to move, but he gripped her arm with surprising strength.

"Let me die here," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "Where we danced once." She was crying now; neither noticed the celebrations already taking place, in between mourning lost ones. "I remember… the benefit…"

"Where you didn't look at me," she said, smiling gently. He was holding on well; perhaps there was hope? Perhaps the protective charms that she had placed on his pin had worked? She could see Healers appearing, and prayed that it wouldn't be long.

"I looked. Merlin, did I look. I had to… force myself to stop." He drew in a shuddering breath, stroking the skin of her arm. "You were just… too beautiful to ignore. I would have stared all night… if I hadn't stopped myself."

"And then we danced."

"And then we danced," he echoed, voice weakening.

"Andrew, just hold on," she said, cupping the back of his head when his eyes shut. She dragged him into a better sitting position. "I didn't let it beat me. You can fight it."

"No reason to fight," he said, opening his eyes again with an effort. Another tear slid down his cheek. "Dark Lord's gone now, and… and you don't love me." She gasped and shook her head. "Never shown any… warmth since you saw the Mark." He winced as she pulled him closer still. "You'll never love me the way I… love… you…"

"You're wrong," she said, lowering her face so that they were touching noses. His eyelids were drooping again. "Andrew, I've loved you for a long time. Such a long time. I'll always love you, so please don't leave me!" She shook him.

"You… love me?" It was barely a murmur now.

"I do," she said, smiling tearfully. "I meant it that day, and then I thought that you couldn't love me because I'm Muggleborn, and that it was all a trick." She rested her forehead on his. "I'm in love with you, Andrew Yaxley."

Finally, he smiled, just as his eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

><p><strong>*Gasps* Only the epilogue left! Please don't hate me for what I do…<strong>

**And, for Merlin's sake, don't panic. You know that I like being suspenseful and ambiguous.**

**Just so's you all know, it's very late at night for me after a long day, and I'm absolutely knackered. In other words, love me for being such a good, self-sacrificing author for you... please? I'm so tired that I'm being melancholy.**


	15. And So They Danced

"And So They Danced"

Hermione and Harry were standing on the platform while their children stared at the Hogwarts Express in awe. Others were staring at Harry, and even Hermione, barely noticing the two eleven-year-old boys and the little girl with them.

"When will they get here?" Harry asked, again looking at the barrier. "James, stop tugging my arm. I'll need it back eventually."

"Can we check out the train, Mum?" the other boy asked.

"Yes, Patrick…"

"Hi, Uncle Ron!" James shouted. "Hi, Mum!" he added when Ginny appeared behind Ron.

"Daddy!" the youngest squealed, and she pulled away from her mother.

"Amelia!" Hermione called after her daughter, who was barrelling towards the redheads. Amelia ignored everyone, ran straight between Ginny and Ron, right into familiar arms.

"Hello, baby," Yaxley said, holding his four-year-old close. He carried her back to her mother. "Sorry. There was a crisis at work which had to be resolved immediately."

"You're here now," Hermione said, and she kissed her husband on the cheek. "But Patrick would have been disappointed."

Yaxley bent down to speak to his son.

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world," he said. "My boy's heading off to school." He smiled. "Make us proud."

"I will, Dad," Patrick said, his eyes wide. "Promise!"

"Bye-bye, Patty," Amelia said, tears forming. She buried her nose in her father's collar. Her brother patted her on the back, looking forward to Hogwarts but not wanting to leave behind the little sister he loved so dearly.

"I'll see you again in the holidays, `Melia," he said. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Then I can tell you all about Hogwarts. Okay?" She nodded, and he wiped away the tear that trickled down her cheek. Then he kissed her on the nose and turned to his mother, who was already pulling out a hanky, the same as Ginny.

"Patrick," James said, poking him. "Let's go before they all start crying."

Just then, Amelia wailed, the sound muffled by material. Patrick looked horrified, and immediately hauled her out of their father's arms, much to his bemusement. She was getting too heavy for her brother, but he cuddled her anyway.

"Can't I take her with me?" he pleaded.

"You're already taking an owl," Hermione said. "An owl you _named_ Amelia. Isn't one of them enough?"

"And what about Rosie?" Yaxley said, referring to Ron and Lavender's three-year-old girl. "She needs a friend, and you and James will make lots of _new_ friends at Hogwarts."

"Rosie!" Amelia squealed, her tears stopping. She wriggled out of Patrick's arms and ran over to the youngster in question, who had just arrived with her mother. Patrick looked disappointed, but cheered up when James began to drag him towards the train. While the adults watched Rose and Amelia natter away, making sure that they didn't run off, the boys found a compartment and stuck their heads out the window.

"Be careful!" Hermione and Ginny called. The Hogwarts Express whistled, and there was a frantic, last-minute dash to the doors for the students still on the platform. All the luggage was on, all the travellers were aboard, and in a matter of seconds the train began to move. Numerous hands waved at family members, and voices shouted forth their farewells and last-minute instructions.

With Amelia attached to his upper body once more and his arm around his wife's waist, Yaxley waved his son off, feeling even prouder than when he was appointed Head of the DMLE fifteen years previously. In seven years' time he would no doubt feel the same way about his daughter, and then four or five years after that the same again for the son or daughter Hermione was expecting.

She looked up at him now and smiled.

"We still have that party at Sirius and Emma's house tonight," she said. "They told me that it's all right to make the announcement then."

"Save me the first dance, Mrs. Yaxley," he said. "That's all I ask."

"Always," she whispered, leaning into his side until the Hogwarts Express had disappeared from sight.

THE END

* * *

><p><strong>Ahn! How sappy. I love ending these stories on a light note. The extreme cutesiness is to make up for last chapter.<strong>

**I hope the epilogue wasn't too confusing, with all these additions to the families. Emma, by the way, is the name of Sirius' wife, the poor girl who took pity and married him. I don't know where they met, I don't care when they met, and I have no idea when this all took place. Just remain contented with the story, please…**

**And NO sequel requests! I'm having enough trouble with the other ones.**

**By the way, I named their daughter Amelia after Amelia Bones, because I assume that the Minister would have made sure that Yaxley didn't go to Azkaban and also kept him in his job. Patrick was the other suggestion from Onyx-Jade, and I thought it a likely name. So… yeah. Good? Good.**

**You can imagine the fates of the other characters for yourself. For example, maybe Professor Snape ran off with some Spanish beauty after they both recovered from their battle wounds in St. Mungo's? Whatever you like.**

**To those interested enough to have kept reading, I attended a seminar on publishing today and EMILY RODDA (!) was one of the speakers. Yay!**


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